


Until Death

by Kali_Blue



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Albion, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Romance, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kali_Blue/pseuds/Kali_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-canon story set after Fable 2.</p><p>The Queen of Albion is revered as one of the most benevolent rulers ever to have walked the kingdom. Her husband Alex, a gentle man wearied by the politics of court, fears her transformation as both a queen and hero is slowly killing her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Death

Alex had grown quite fond of the small, private garden over the years. It was one of the few areas of the castle his family could escape, somewhat, from the intrigue and machinations of court life.

It was largely a rose garden, in line with Sparrows fondness for the flower. A small, peaceful carp pond stood on the east side, willow trees hanging gracefully around the edges. Vines spiralled up pillars which enclosed the area in an almost perfect circular shape, and neatly trimmed rose hedges provided borders for winding pathways criss-crossing the garden. The temperature was slightly on the warm side but pleasant, the blue sky above unmarred by clouds.

Leaning back against a raised pergola and feeling rather overdressed in a blue tailored coat with ridiculous frilly sleeves, Alex watched Sparrow, Queen of Albion, toss their son around the garden.

While Alex had chosen, reluctantly, to start the morning dressed for court, the queen and her son had done no such thing. Sparrow had chosen a presentable but casual button-up shirt, soft brown trousers and scuffed boots. A four-year old Logan still wore his _nightshirt and longjohns_. He danced around in bare feet, a smudge of dirt caked to his round cheeks and black hair completely mussed.

Scandalous attire for royalty to start off the day, Alex thought in mild amusement. Or so the lords and ladies would have said. But then, neither Sparrow or himself had been born with silver spoons in their mouths. For most of his life Alex had known nothing but a middle-class upbringing. Sparrow had grown up in the _slums._ Both were equally guilty in passing on some rather, well, _lower-class habits_ when it came to the raising of their son. Whether this was to the young princes detriment was yet to be seen.

A squeal of delight brought him back from his musing, and he watched as his son ran to the edge of the pond, arms stretched out, before circling back to tackle his mother. His wife, her brown hair half undone from her tail, scooped him up when he threw himself at her. Alex smiled fondly when she laughed wildly, seeming completely carefree in that moment. Not a burden in the world.

That smile was immediately wiped away when his wife sprouted wings of the purest white on her back. Her blue eyes, usually possessing an unnaturally blue tint, seemed to turn an almost a metallic shade of azure. The tattoos running down her cheekbones and spiralling up her bare arms glowed with a fierce, almost-blinding light.

The two of them, thank goodness, seemed oblivious to her change, far to lost in their own world to notice the almost godly glow his wife was casting across the garden. Nor, to his relief, were any nobles around to gawk at the spectacle. His back straightened and his lips pinched in a flat line.

Once upon a time, years ago, Alex had been drawn to his knees at the sight. Sparrow’s face and appearance reflected her path in life, her choices, and he couldn’t have been more proud of her for it. He’d been so sure at the time that the path she’d chosen, the right path, the _righteous_ path, had been the correct one. The queen was pure, and good, and wise, the kind of hero the kingdom of Albion looked up to – the kind of person Alex himself aspired to be.

And now all that kindness was killing her.

Perhaps the hero-worship Alex had felt for his wife, for _years_ , had left him blind to what was happening. He refused to let himself see what she was turning into. Her change in appearance had only been the beginning.

He didn't know, precisely, what was causing the change in her character. Perhaps it was simply that the ‘pure’ heart Sparrow had sought to cultivate took too much on - saw too much suffering and sorrow. Too often he gazed into those eyes and saw… nothing. She’d stop what she was doing, turn still as a statue, and look at him with blank, emotionless orbs. It scared him when she became like that. Sparrow was a woman becoming so ‘pure’ she reminded him of nothing more than a blank canvas. In a way, madness would have been better, because at least that would have spoken of some emotion and depth.

He feared one day the woman he loved would unfurl those wings and fly away.

Like right then, for example. Those wings he’d come to almost fear hadn’t faded yet, which worried him. Normally they were fleeting, coming and going in a burst of colour, usually forcing those captured in her light to their knees. But with Logan firmly over play and well and determined to glue himself to his mother, Sparrow only ruffled her wings and rested her head on her son’s shoulder. Her eyes met her husband and she smiled. There was so much love and contentment in her eyes that Alex did the only thing he could think of to keep her looking like that.

He stuffed all that worry down, deep, deep inside, and smiled back.

Alex, long, long ago, had once been terrible at hiding his emotions. ‘Wore his heart on his sleeve,’ his deceased fiancé used to say, and she wasn’t wrong. Even Sparrow, before she’d been the queen, had remarked that Alex was far too easy to read. Once upon a time his wife would have been able to see the fear and sickness and worry that threatened to overwhelm him.

His time as the ‘queen’s consort’ had taught him far too well, it seemed. Life in court had made the once naive and slightly simple soul a little more jaded, a little more sharp-tongued and bitter. Far better at hiding the tells on his face. Oblivious to his internal struggle, his wife’s smile seemed to grow wider as the blue in her eyes deepened all the more. The wings on her back fanned out.

It was then, at her brightest, that Alex watched with a sinking heart when her face went slack and the emotion in her eyes began to die. Her grip on her child loosened.

His feet moved before his brain did, moving towards the both of them. He threw his arms around both Sparrow and Logan and squeezed. Tight. Sometimes simple distraction worked best when it came to drawing Sparrow back to earth.

‘Alex?’ her tone was breathless and, thankfully, normal. He breathed a sigh of relief when her wings disappeared in a soft mist, leaving only a few feathers to float slowly to the ground.

‘Why, Sparrow, you were leaving me out of the family hug! How could I not join in?’ Alex’s own voice was mercifully, quite jovial, and he was proud there was no shake in it. Logan giggled in response and squirmed in their embrace. Alex kissed the top of his head.

‘Please do. Just try not to strangle us both the next time!’ Sparrow quipped back playfully, but there was a slight question in her cadence.  

‘I’ll certainly try.’ Alex said, reaching out to cup a cheek. The smile that crept across her face was slower this time, a little bit touched with worry. It was fear for him, Alex knew, and not herself.

But it was genuine and most of all, entirely human, and that’s exactly what Alex was after.


End file.
